Kiss Me
by nathy.faithy
Summary: Mostly he just dreams about her lips - full, rosy and so damn kissable. He wonders how many times he will have the same dream before it gets too much to bear. How long till he finally cracks in front of her, or worse, in front of the team?


**_Thank you so much for the prompt Orlissa and for being amazing and beta-reading it for me!br /_**

 ** _Love ya. *-*_**

 _ **Basorexia – (n.)The overwhelming desire to kiss**_

* * *

Mostly he just dreams about her lips - full, rosy and so damn _kissable_.

He wonders how many times he will have the same dream before it gets too much to bear. How long till he finally cracks in front of her, or worse, in front of the team?

If there is one thing Ward is afraid of, it is blowing his no-emotions facade – but since Skye has a way of pushing all of his buttons the right way, it is very much a possibility. He can recall in precise detail the scent of her perfume mixed with her sweat – it's sweet and salty at the same time, as if he is smelling fresh coconuts with a hint of vanilla, and the beach.

He can hear her voice, playful, slightly out of breath, teasing him. Ward is sure that if they weren't surrounded by people the other night while at the cargo bay, he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her right there and then.

Ward closes his eyes and lets out a groan. It is almost six am, which mean she is running late – usually he would have had taken a bath, changed and drank some coffee by now. Except today he is too busy daydreaming about Skye's perfect lips to care.

Skye is probably sleeping, her small hand tucked underneath her pillow, and her soft, curly locks falling all over it. Quiet breaths coming out of her lips, legs tangled in her sheets. Ward sighs as he runs a hand over his face, trying to keep the tiredness away, but, without really meaning to, falls asleep again.

 _He hears a beeping sound, which makes him get out of bed right away, already reaching for the gun that he keeps underneath his pillow. He walks out of his bunk, enters the hall, raises his arms, gun in hand, and walks as quietly as possible towards the noise._

 _He wanders until he reaches the kitchenette. It's almost completely dark, then a dim light_ _illuminates the room for a moment, bathing his rookie in light – she is sitting at the cupboard, kicking her feet lazily as she reads something on her cellphone, and the beeping sound he heard, he realizes, was just the microwave. Skye notices his shadow and jumps in her seat, scared by him pointing his gun at her._

 _"Geez, Ward! What the heck is your problem? Put that down!" Skye exclaims, relief washing over her._

 _"Skye? What are you even doing up, it's the middle of the night."_

 _"Can't a girl get thirsty? Jeez." She waves her hand and points out to him, "I mean, imagine that! Surely her meanie and bossy SO will come out from gosh knows where and scare her to death," she teases._

 _"I was not – I heard a noise and–" Ward starts, but struggles for words._

 _"And you assumed it was…what? Freddy Kruger? Some ex-military turned into a zombie? A maniac?" Skye shakes her head, and as if personal space wasn't a thing, plants her hand over his chest and says, "Seriously, robot, you gotta cut yourself some slack."_

 _He watches her, mesmerized by the way her lips move as she speaks and how adorable she looks wearing bee socks. He suddenly makes a decision; he wants to kiss her, to taste her lips. He is about to make his move when he hears a knock, once, twice, three times. He frowns as he looks behind himself to find the source, but the knocking keeps coming from all over the place._

Ward wakes up, and realizes that he has been inside his bunk all along, lying on his bed instead of checking the security of the Bus. He runs his hands over his face and gets up to answer the door, where the knocking – he thinks – is certainly coming from. He checks the clock in his bedside table and is surprised to see it is way past six am.

He opens the door, blinking rapidly when the light of the hall hits his eyes. Skye is in front of him, tilting her head, watching him with a confused expression on her face. She seems to be taking in his appearance, which makes him self-aware of his own state – he bets his hair is tousled, he is shirtless and barefoot, and his pants are riding lower on his hips than usual.

But Skye is simply gazing at his face, as if there's something very wrong with it.

Without any further warning or even a _"Hey Ward, what's up?",_ she touches his forehead with the back of her right hand, then she frowns before saying "Your temperature seems fine to me, you don't feel hot. I mean, of course you're hot, but I don't think you have a fever.

Ward is about to open his mouth to say something when she cups his face in her small hands. She stares into his eyes, and tilts her face, confusion written all over it. Her voice is soft when she asks him, "Grant, are you okay? Did you have a nightmare? Do you want me to call Simmons to give you a check-up?"

Ward circles her wrists with his large hands, all the while keeping his eyes on her lips; Skye is still talking, but her words are falling to deaf ears. He takes one of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers together. He holds her hand on his cheek and stepped closer to her calmly, almost painfully slow, until barely an inch separated their bodies. He can feel her pressing his hand, as to reassure him that she is here, that she wants this too, he searches her eyes, but is taken by surprise when she licks her lips in anticipation urging him to take the next step. He runs his hand over her body resting on her hip, the contact is familiar though much more intimate than when he trains with her; she lifts her face towards his, and he can read expectation in her eyes. It's incredible to him how well she fits into his embrace. He lowers his face towards her and breathes in her scent, so familiar and alluring to him.

He pecks her lips first, before diving into a full kiss. Skye's lips are soft, warm and taste like coffee. He brings her body closer, lifts her feet off the ground all the while he keeps kissing her with abandon. Skye doesn't seem to mind – her fingers are lost in his even messier hair, her heart is hammering in her chest due to his kisses. He walks backwards into his bunk, and closes the door behind them with a tug; when breathing becomes an issue; he rests his forehead against hers and murmurs, his voice low and hoarse, "I've been meaning to kiss you since I first lay eyes on you."


End file.
